The Consulting Detective's Daughter- Clara Marion Emilia Holmes
by E.I.Cochrane
Summary: Thirteen year old Clara Holmes lives with her father Sherlock Holmes and her godfather John Watson. From playing the Harp, School and solving crimes Clara's life isn't is exactly normal but when she is kidnapped Clara is forced to put her intelligence and skills to the test.
1. Introduction

**I would like to thank the wonderful cast and crew of BBC Sherlock for making six saturday nights the best ever! **

**Please comment and read there are always nice. **


	2. Chapter One

_It's dark. So dark. And cold. The girl seemed to be chained to a wall. She's pale and there's blood trickling down her cheek. Her head is bowed. She's weak and scared. She lifts her head as she hears footsteps. Her bright blue eyes are wide in terror. A man comes into view. She tries break the chains that trap her but it's no use._

_"No" she pleads. "Please. No!"_

_A blade appears and the man grins like a psychotic chesser cat. The girl screams._

Clara sat up, gasping for air.

"Just a bad dream" she said to herself. "Just a bad dream".

She lay back down for a few minutes, thinking about her nightmares that have plagued her dreams for months.

"PING!"

She looked over to at her bedside cabinet. She picked up her Samsung Galaxy and read the text from her friend Ellie it read-

YAY! Holidays! xx

Clara smiled and almost forgot about her dream. She got up and got dressed into a white shirt, a black jumper, black jeans, and beige brogues and headed downstairs.

Her father, Sherlock, was on John's laptop. Clara frowned.

"Why aren't you on your own Laptop?" she asked.

"Because mine isn't on the desk" he murmured.

Clara saw his Laptop a few feet away from Sherlock.

"And you couldn't be bothered to get up?".

Sherlock didn't reply.

Clara rolled her eyes.

She sat down and used her father's Laptop. Sherlock turned around.

"Hey you didn't ask!" he exclaimed. "Neither did you" replied Clara. Sherlock's mouth twitched, secretly amused by his daughter's went back to his e-mails but soon got bored and started deducing everything about Clara.

Left-handed, Recently washed-hair, Committed Harp-player, Tired, Nightmares.

"Nightmares?" he thought. He looked closely.

Bags under eyes, rapid breathing, slightly greasy hair due to sweat during the night, shaky hands.

"You've been having nightmares" he said. Clara froze for a few seconds. She knew it was a statement not a question. She didn't want her father to worry but she knew lying would be completely pointless with Sherlock. "Just a few" she said. "There not as bad as last year". "But you get them" he replied.

Clara sighed. You can never have the last word with Sherlock. Or win an argument or prove a point. She tried a different tactic. She stood up. "Breakfast?". She went through to the Kitchen. Sherlock followed her.

Sherlock cleared his Experiments away to one side. He sat down with a Coffee whilst Clara had a glass of Tropicana Orange Juice and a bowl of Cheerios.

Sherlock watched Clara for a moment, choosing when best to bring the Nightmare subject up again.

"So, what are they about" he asked, casually.

Clara shrugged. "Just same old scary stuff".

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well that's what I assume when people say Nightmares, Clara" he said, sarcastically.

Clara glared at him, mouth full of cheerios. "Maybe I don't want to talk about it. Maybe I'd rather not tell anyone".

"Well that's pointless, you might as well tell me because I'll will deduce it rather quickly" Sherlock said, smugly.

Clara stared at him, thinking of a good comeback. She smiled and took a sip of her orange juice. "Well if you're going to figure it out... I won't need to tell you right? Because you'll figure it out when your bored or something so there is no point telling you something that you're going to know".

Sherlock raised his newspaper over his face and said- "I'll leave you to your deductions".

Clara smiled. For the first time ever she won proving a point or winning an argument with Sherlock Holmes.

John sleepily entered the Kitchen, sleepily.

"Morning" said Clara.

"Morning" yawned John. "Any nightmares?" he asked, opening the fridge. Clara didn't have time to reply because John slammed the fridge door and swore loudly.

"What is it?" asked Clara.

She got up and went to the fridge.

"I wouldn't if I were you" said John. Clara ignored him and opened the fridge door. "Jesus Christ!" she said, slamming the fridge door. "Told you" said John.

"What's in there?" asked Sherlock. "Sherlock" exclaimed Clara. "Your the one who put it in there".

"I know" replied Sherlock. "But the fact on what it is useless to me so I deleted it".

"Give me strength" said John.

"Bet your awake now" joked Clara. John nodded- "Sure". "Good" replied Sherlock. "You can come with me, I need both of your assistance. A new case has come up".

Hello Everyone!

Intro and Chapter One is coming up. Don't worry The case and drama is coming up soon just bear with me! Chapter Two up soon. Please like and vote and leave comments. I'd be most grateful. Tips is well would be fantastic!

The Londoner


	3. Chapter Two

Clara and John followed Sherlock through to the Living Room.

"A case?" asked John. "Since when?"

"Since half three in the morning" said Sherlock. "Did you phone Mycroft at that time because you were bored or something?" asked Clara. "No Lestrade was on Nightshift and called saying we must meet him at Greenwich at Eleven" said Sherlock.

Clara smiled to herself. She loved Greenwich. The Sunday Market, The Cutty Sark, The Royal Naval College, Greenwich Park, The Timeline. And now a promising Case! She used to go to Greenwich Market very Sunday with her parents when she was little and now she would be there once again with her father.

"Clara you ready to go?" asked John. "Sherlock's waiting downstairs".

Clara followed John downstairs, grabbing her beige duffel coat and put it on. She got to the bottom of the stairs and stopped. She checked her pockets.

"Mrs. H, have you seen my scarf?" she asked.

Mrs Hudson smiled and pulled out the red tartan scarf, and placed it round Clara's neck.

"Thank you" said Clara, fixing her medium-length, thick ginger har and hugged the old lady.

"See you later" said Clara, running to the door. "Keep safe" said Mrs Hudson. Clara grinned and rushed into the Taxi. Sherlock smiled at her and said to the cabbie "Greenwich" and drove off.

"Stop here" said Sherlock, as he saw the Police Tape. Clara payed the Cabbie and followed John and Sherlock to the entrance of the Royal Observatory. Donavon was standing there looking bored.

"Hello Freak" she said. "Sally" replied Sherlock, flatly. Sherlock and John and Ruby walked through the Entrance but Sally blocked Ruby's path. "What is she doing here?" she asked. "I'm here to help" replied Clara.

"Shouldn't you be as School?" asked Donavon.

"It's the School Holidays" said Sherlock. "Now step aside and let my daughter past".

Sally gave Sherlock a dirt look but did as Sherlock said. "One day Freak, you won't be so lucky, you shouldn't be bringing a child to a Crime Scene".

But Sherlock ignored her. They walked along the path in complete silence before Sherlock let out a chuckle. "What?" asked John.

"This is going to be a very interesting case" said Sherlock.

"How?" asked John.

"Clara, I'm going to let you explain my deductions" said Sherlock.

"We know it's a complex case because Lestrade asked for help, but it's not a murder" said Clara.

"No?" asked John. "How so?".

"Because it if was a murder, Lestrade would of asked for Sherlock's assistance at half-three in the morning. You wouldn't leave a body out for seven and a half hours. So it's something different. Something unusual and probably for Sherlock exciting" Clara replied. "Am I right Sherlock?".

Sherlock smiled. "Spot on, well done".

They met Lestrade, about three metres away from the Crime Scene.

"So what's happened?" asked John.

"Someone has gratified The Time Meridian with blood." said Lestrade. "It's a message. A message for you Sherlock".

**Chapter Three as soon as I can. Please review!**


	4. Chapter Three

They followed Lestrade up to the Time Meridian.

"We know it was for you, because under it was this" said Lestrade. He rummaged through Paperwork and gave Sherlock a small evidence bag. On the screen was _I AM SHER LOCKED,_ exactly like Irene Adler's.

"Sherlock, that isn't mum's actual phone... right?" whispered Clara.

"No, no, it's a replica" said Sherlock. "Someone's gone to a huge amount of trouble to make it look like the real one though".

"How could they of known though?" asked John. "That case was extremely hush, hush. I wasn't aloud to put it on my blog."

"Moriarty" said Clara. "Two reasons. One, Irene Adler was working with him and two, he sent a replica of Jennifer Wilson's phone, do you remember?" she asked, turning to Lestrade.

Lestrade nodded. "The one from The Study in Pink".

Sherlock glared at him. "Yes that one" he said, coldly. (He still didn't approve of John's blog).

"Can we see the Graffiti now?" asked Clara.

Lestrade them over to the impressive silver, Time Meridian. Written in scarlet liquid, unmistakably was blood, were nine symbols.

Clara smiled. Codes were her speciality.

Ever since she was four, Clara was obsessed with Sudoku and Futushiki, when she was bored she would scribble random symbols from random languages and maths symbols. When she was at Mycroft's she found a Classified file of not figured out Terrorists plans. Mycroft didn't understand any of it, but Ruby at the age of five deciphered it in three minutes.

"Well, Clara looks like I can rely on your expertise" said Sherlock. "I'll work on the blood, whilst you work on the code".

He and Clara crouched down.

"So" he said. No one was really listening. Everyone seemed to be arguing with Anderson.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO Clara!" he yelled.

Everyone froze.

"Thank you" said Clara. "There are nine symbols, Venus symbol, Viking helmet, two dice, a lock of hair, and symbol, a human eye, a flame and a lamb. The first symbol either means Girl, Woman, Her or She. The second could mean war or defence, more likely war since defence is usually symbolized by a shield, but even then war is usually symbolized by a sword. Dice could mean luck or gambling. The lock of hair... haven't the faintest. The and symbol is so obvious even Anderson should understand it". Clara turned towards Anderson and smirked.

Anderson glared at her.

Clara continued- "The eye could mean simply 'I' or a person. The helmet comes up again. The flame means anger or fire and the lamb could mean new life or spring ".

Sherlock smiled proudly at his daughter.

"Wow" said Lestrade. Everyone was shocked. There used to Sherlock doing the deducing but they forget that Clara can do it to. And when it comes out of a teenager it really is shocking.

"That was good" said Sherlock.

Clara gave a small laugh. "That was nothing compared to the Terrorists plans when I was five".

"Clara you take pictures and start working on the code, I'll take some blood samples to the lab" said Sherlock.

"What can I do?" asked John.

"Get Clara to send the pictures to you, you then print them off, I'll text you after" said Sherlock.

Clara took pictures on her phone and after Sherlock took blood samples.

"Clara and John, I'll meet you back at the flat, I'm off to the lab, when I find out those blood it is, Lestrade you need to find that person" said Sherlock.

Lestrade nodded.

Sherlock walked off to find a cab.

John and Clara walked through Greenwich Park.

"Do you think it's Moriarty?" asked Clara. John thought for a moment.

"You made a good point about the phones" he said. "I don't know".

Clara's phone bleeped telling her she had a text.

_If you figure out three of the symbols by the time I get back, I'll give you a tenner- SH _

"Oh it is on!" said Clara.

**Sorry this has taken so long.**

**Just wanted to explain that Clara doesn't call Sherlock 'dad' because, I feel that that's a sort of thing Sherlock and Clara wouldn't do.**

**Please review! **


	5. Chapter Four

Clara was in the living room, using Sherlock's desk, the pictures of the message scattered everywhere, her laptop was the side, piles of notes and scribbles were sacked up neatly. She had figured out four symbols.

John came in. "How are you getting on?" he asked.

"I've got- She something, something, something and I something, something you" replied Clara.

"How did you get 'you' from a lamb?" he asked.

"Simple really, it isn't actually a lamb, it's not quite small enough but it isn't big enough to be a male sheep, so it's a female sheep and you call a female sheep a ewe" replied Clara.

John sat down and watched Clara. He could see why Sherlock was worried about her.

"Will you promise me something?" asked John.

"Depends on the promise" said Clara, not really paying attention. She shuffled her notes, waiting for John to say something.

"Promise me you'll talk to Sherlock or I, if you have really bad nightmares?" he asked.

Clara froze.

"Unbelievable" she thought. Sherlock asked John to talk to her about something (in her opinion) that was the most difficult thing to talk about.

She didn't have time to argue. She didn't really want to argue anyway. She smiled brightly-"Promise."

John frowned. He didn't think it would be that easy. "Er... really? Right...ok...good... thank you" he stammered. "We only want to protect, Clara".

Clara stopped. "What did you say?"

"I said we only want to protect you Clara" said John.

"No" replied Clara. "You said protect Clara, you didn't say the you."

"Clara, you know what I mea-"

"No John, you don't get it" she said excitedly. "The helmet doesn't mean war, a sword does and it doesn't mean defend because a shield does!"

"The helmet means protect!" said John.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Clara.

She flipped opened her Laptop and typed -_Viking era helmet protect_

She scrolled down to a name site.

"Aha!" she said. "Will is a name from the Viking era meaning helmet and protect".

"That's it" said John. "So that makes it...".

"She _will_ something, something and I _will_ something you" said Clara.

John's phone suddenly went off.

"Sherlock needs our help at Bart's.

**Hello! Please review this **

**ta! **


	6. Chapter Five

John and Clara made there way through the bright corridors of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Molly was walking towards them.

"Hello" she said. "Are you looking for Sherlock?".

Clara nodded.

"He's in the lab" she replied.

"Thanks" said John.

Sherlock was looking through a microscope.

"Ah" he said. "You're here".

"What's wrong?" asked Clara. "Who's blood is it?"

"The blood belongs to... to Moriarty" he said.

"That's..." said Clara. "That's not right".

"How is that possible" she murmured, still not quite sure how that is possible.

"Surely that means it's not Moriarty" said John.

"Clara, have you figured out the message?" Sherlock asked, suddenly.

"I only have a few more to figure out" replied Clara.

"You go home, try and finish it, John we'll look for clues" said Sherlock.

Sherlock put on his scarf and made his way to the door, occupied by John. Clara wasn't having any of it.

"Wait, I want to go with you" she said.

"No" said Sherlock, putting on his coat, and carried on walking. "To dangerous"

"To dangerous" exclaimed Clara. "I've seen dead bodies, used guns, I've helped defeat a gang of Chinese smugglers and Vatican Cameos!"

"I said no!" replied Sherlock. "Not if it's Moriarty. I won't have you kidnapped again".

"But-"

"No Clara!" he said, turning to her. "That's the end of it".

He closed his eyes and sighed. He then fished around his pocket and offered her a twenty pound note. "This should get you home".

Clara glared at him. She took the money. She walked out the exit, hailed a cab, got in without a second glance. "221B Baker Street" she said to the cabbie.

As the cabbie drove, she looked out the window as furious tears trickled down her cheeks. She was so angry that when she got back to the flat she threw her notes across the floor. She knelt down, her hands on her cheeks. They felt that they were burning. Wait a minute. Fire. Burning. A burning fire. She picked up a picture of the message and looked at the flame symbol. She remembered Moriarty's words to Sherlock- "I will burn the heart out of you". Burn.

"Yes!" she said, and scribbled the word onto the picture, like she done with the other symbols.

Then she thought of the lock of hair. It made no sense! Burn hair!?. Wait a moment. Moriarty said Burn to Sherlock. Sherlock.

She grabbed her laptop and typed in the 'meaning of Sherlock'. She found-

_The name 'Sherlock' came from old English 'bright hair'. _

"That's it!" she thought. "A flame is bright and it's the symbol before the lock of hair, so it's Sherlock!".

She took a minute to snigger at how ridiculous the name was. She wrote Sherlock under the symbol. She smiled only one more symbol to go!

**Sorry it took so long! I've been busy! Please review! Chapter six up soon!**

**The Londoner XX **


	7. Chapter Six

Clara sat down and thought for a while.

"Dice. Dice"

She leapt up in frustration and looked out the window.

She looked down at the darkened streets of Central London. A figure looked around before graffitying the 'F' word onto a parking metre.

Clara sniggered. "How stupid people are doing stupid pointless unnecessary things" she thought.

She watched the figure ran away.

She frowned. What she had just witnessed made her remember about (as John called it) The Blind Banker case. She suddenly had an idea. She picked up her phone and noticed text messages from John.

_He's just wants to keep you out of trouble!- JW._

She rolled her eyes and scrolled down her contacts. She dialled the number of her Uncle Mycroft.

Sherlock and John wandered through the quiet streets of Blackheath. They shone there torches around the ground and the different buildings. They were silent. John found it found slightly awkward.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Thinking" replied Sherlock. He froze and shone a light down an alleyway. "This way" he said, running. John followed. Sherlock shone the torch on a wall there was graffiti and ancient looking symbols.

Sherlock eyes darted across the symbols. He'd seen them before but he couldn't remember where.

"Celtic Ruins" said John.

"What?" mumbled mumbled Sherlock, not really paying attention.

"The graffiti. It's celtic ruins" said John.

Sherlock frowned at John. John raised his eyebrows.

"You know the british people during the Roman times. The Celts" said John. "That's there alphabet. Let me guess you deleted the Celts as well as the Solar System?!".

"How do you know about them?" asked Sherlock.

"Clara's History Project, she was telling us abut it and showing us" said John.

Sherlock knew he'd seen it somewhere. And now he knew specifically what it was he could read it.

"I can read it" he said. "I know how to".

"Er...ok, I'm not going to ask why or how so... what does it say?"

"To find the next little...clue... go to the Bridge of... Waterloo, but hurry up or she will... die and god knows how you will cry so come on... Sherlock chop chop" said Sherlock.

John looked at him. "Who will die Sherlock?".

"I don't know" said Sherlock.

They went off to get a cab to Waterloo Bridge.

In the taxi, Sherlock was thinking. Thinking what if the 'she' is Clara. But he knew that she would be safe at the flat.

**Thank you for your patience Chapter Seven is up very soon **

**xx**


	8. Chapter Seven

Clara was on hold. How stupid she felt. She only wanted to ask her Uncle Mycroft one question. But of course him being the Government, she had to be on bloody hold!

Meanwhile at Waterloo Bridge, Sherlock and John payed the cabbie before looking for the next clue.

"Hello, Mycroft Holmes" said Mycroft's voice.

"Finally!" exclaimed Clara. "Do you realize how long I was on hold for".

"Apologies, my niece" he said, smugly. "When one works for the Government one has to take security measures".

"Are you telling me that I wasn't on hold, your secretaries didn't give you the phone in case I was some sort of Spy or Hacker?" she asked.

Mycroft didn't say anything, as if thinking about his answer. "Yes" he said finally.

Clara sighed. Her uncle was pompous, arrogant and extremely frustrating.

"Right, well the reason I called was because I need to ask you a question" she said.

"Go on" he said.

"Well recently we've been working on a case in Greenwich an-

"I know, I know about the code is well" Mycroft interrupted.

"Of course you do, yes I forgot about your little hobby of Spying on us" she said sarcastically.

"No" said Mycroft. "I just caught a glimpse of you on CCTV cameras, that's all".

Clara sighed. She knew he was lying. "Whatever, you know the symbols?"

"Yes" replied Mycroft.

"You the symbol with the dice"Clara said.

"Die" said Mycroft.

"Excuse me?" said Clara.

"The dice symbol on the Time Meridian was a symbol of _two_ dice, yes?" he said.

"Uh-hu" said Clara, uncertainly.

"The plural for Dice is die" he said.

Clara felt like she'd been punched. "What?"

Mycroft sighed, exasperated. "The plural for dice is die".

Clara was shocked and scared. How could be so stupid? She stared at the picture she took at the Time Meridian. She could hear Moriarty's voice in her head, saying the words. She lowered the phone. She could hear Mycroft calling her name, asked if she was still there. She ignored Mycroft and hung up.

"So that's the code" she whispered to herself. "She will die Sherlock and I will burn you".

She had cracked the code. _She will die. _It meant her. She was going to die. Moriarty will kill her.

**Chapter eight up soon, please review **

**hope you like the tension! **


	9. Chapter Eight

Sherlock and John were walking on Waterloo Bridge, Sherlock looked at the view that magnificent view of London lit up. He knew Clara would love it. He made a mental note to take her there one day. He smiled to himself.

He turned around to find that John was ahead.

"Sherlock" he yelled. Sherlock ran up to him.

John shone his torch on the ledge of the bridge. "Look" he said.

Sherlock didn't say anything. On the ledge was a envelope suck to the ledge with tape saying 'Sherlock' on the front. He opened it and read it.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

He showed it to John. John looked at it.

There was an A4 piece of paper with a photocopied picture. It was a black and white picture of Clara, sitting on a table, laughing. John recognized it as one of her old Facebook profile pictures. Printed across the photo, in red was :-

"DOOFUS SHERLOCK KILLED HER!"

"How did you kill her?" asked John.

"I didn't take her with us" Sherlock. "I sent her back to the flat by herself".

He banged his fists on the ledge, angrily.

"I did what Moriarty wanted me to do!" he yelled. "IT WAS A TRAP"

John didn't know what to say. He knew what Sherlock he knew it was a trap and yet he wanted to say she'll be fine but he didn't she was.

Just then Sherlock's phone rang.

"Hello?" he said.

"Sherlock, it's me".

"Clara" he said, sounding relieved. "Where are you?"

"At the flat" she said. " I er... cracked the code."

"Good girl" he said. "What is it?"

Clara paused. "It says... 'She will die Sherlock and I will burn you'"

John put his hand to his mouth and swore.

"I think...I think it's me, you think so do, you know don't you?" she said. "You always know"

Sherlock bit back his lips.

"Tell me is it me" she said with a catch in her voice. "Please Sherlock cause I am really properly scared"

"Clara listen to me, stay in the flat, is Mrs Hudson in?" he asked.

"No she's at her sister's remember?" replied Clara.

"Ok, stay in the flat, John and I are on our way back, we'll there in twenty minutes, depending on the traffic" he said. "Promise me you'll stay at the flat"

"Ok, I promise" she said. "Bye"

"Bye" said Sherlock.

"Sherlock cab" said John., hailing it.

They rushed inside. They told the cabbie the address. Sherlock looked out the window.

"Hold on Clara" he murmered.


	10. Chapter Nine

Clara was pacing up and down, waiting for Sherlock and John to come back. She sat down and tapped her feet impatiently and nervously. She wondered if she should call Mycroft, but probably by the time they actually gave him the phone she'd be dead or with Sherlock. Her phone chimed. She rushed to the table and looked at the phone:-

_Traffic is bad _

_I don't know how long we'll be_

_If you feel unsafe call Lestrade - SH_

She didn't feel the need to call Lestrade. Not yet anyway. She sent a reply to Sherlock just so he knew that she was safe. She looked out the window, no one was around. But yet she felt like she was being watched and not in a nice way. Maybe she should call Lestrade. No, no that would be silly. She decided to go and sit on the stairs she watched the door. She wiped a few tears away from her cheeks.

In a quiet street in Soho, Jim Moriarty was instructing some of his men.

"Go to Baker Street. Get the Girl." he said.

Once his men had left he went to the window. "She will not escape me again".

Clara put on her shoes, coat and scarf. She had to get away. She rushed to the door and placed her hand on the door handle. She hesitated. She promised Sherlock that she'd wait for him and John to get back. She went back up and sat on the stairs.

"You've been waiting for twenty minutes he'll be back soon" she thought to herself.

Just then the doorbell rang. She got up.

"Thank god there here" she said.

She opened the door to find to men in black.

She tried to slam the door but they shoved there way through.

One of them got hold of her but she kneed him where it hurt. he doubled over and Clara kicked him to the ground where he became quite still.

The other man slapped her across the face and Clara fell with to the ground with a yelp.

But she got up quickly and punched him in the face, he swore in pain and tried the same but Clara dodged and pushed him to the ground.

Unfortunately she forgot about the other man.

He grabbed her arm, twisting it. She screamed in agony. The man held her against himself, so she couldn't get away.

"Quickly" he said to the other man, who had a bleeding nose, thanks to Clara. The man with the bleeding nose produced a cloth from his pocket. Ruby tried to get out of the man's grasp but it was no good.

The man held her steady.

"No" she yelled. "GET AWAY FROM ME".

The cloth came closer.

"NO. NO. SHERLOCK HELP ME. SOMEBODY HELP ME"

He shoved the cloth to her nose and mouth. She screamed but it was no use.

She tried to hit, kick and try to bite but it was no use. She could feel the drug working. Her protests became slow and sluggish.

"No. Please. No" she whispered.

Her eyelids drooped. Her last thoughts were of John and Sherlock before her body and mind fell into a dark unconscious.

Sherlock and John rushed up stairs of 221 B.

"Clara" he yelled. He bursts through the living room.

He looked around.

John bit his lip. He knew it was to late.

He heard Sherlock rush upstairs to Clara's room. He heard Sherlock call her name.

Sherlock came downstairs, breathing heavily.

"They've taken her" he said. "She's gone"

John put his hands to his face.

Sherlock kicked a chair.


	11. Chapter Ten

was on the phone to Lestrade, telling him about Clara being kidnapped. Sherlock was sitting in his armchair staring at the fire, waiting for John to get off the phone. He couldn't take his mind of Clara.

He always hid his emotions but his mind and body was letting him down he'd been with Clara since she was born and when the explosion happened an he lost her and then she returned after 5 years he felt he had to protect her and he wouldn't let her go again.

He let out a long shaky sigh. He didn't realise that John was watching him with a concerned expression.

"I'm fine" said Sherlock.

"No your not" said John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can you phone Mycroft please?". John sighed. "Sure".

Clara opened her eyes. Her head was pounding and she felt sluggish, tired and slow. She lifted her head, trying to blink the blurriness away. She was confused. Her hands felt like they were stuck together. Come to think of it so did her legs. She looked at her hands and legs. They were bound together by a thick rope.

"Bit old fashioned" she mumbled.

She looked around. It was dark. She managed to sit up but the darkness spun.

"Whoa" she muttered, falling back.

She heard footsteps.

"Sherlock?" she called. "Is that you?"

The footsteps came closer. She couldn't see.

"Sherlock?" she said again.

The footsteps laughed. A sinister laugh.

Clara let a small gasp escape her lips.

She felt a breathing behind her neck.

"Don't be stupid" the voice said. "By the time he finds you, you'll be dead"

"Your not Moriarty" she pointed out.

"No" the voice said. "But you'll see him very soon"

A sharp pain went up Clara's arm and she blacked out.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Sherlock was pacing impatiently as Mycroft, Lestrade and John hovered over a computer.

"Anything?" asked Sherlock.

"Patience, dear brother, dear brother" said Mycroft.

"Shut up!" barked Sherlock.

"Got it" said Lestrade.

Sherlock rushed over to the computer.

"There's only about twelve seconds" said Mycroft.

The fur men watched the twelve seconds of CCTV footage. A man had an unconscious Clara over his shoulder and shoved her quickly in the car.

"The one holding the door, I've seen him on the news, he's Seth Marling and the one with Clara is Jonah Bec..." said John.

Mycroft nodded. "deadly Assassins"

"God" murmured Lestrade.

They watched the last second and the car drove off.

Sherlock noted the registration number.

"Start with the car" he said.

Lestrade phoned to see if the car had been reported.

John went down to tell Mrs Hudson about the bad news, leaving the Holmes brothers alone together.

"I told you that caring was not an advantage, Sherlock" said Mycroft.

"What are you saying?" spat Sherlock. "That ten years ago I shouldn't of bothered to try and finds her and Madeline in the explosion, that five years ago when I saw her again by Westminster I shouldn't of brought her in! She's my daughter Mycroft!"

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed.

"It wasn't your fault" said Mycroft, breaking the silence.

Sherlock glared out the window.

"It's funny" said Mycroft. "She's the only thing that reassures everyone that your human".

Sherlock looked at Mycroft in confusion.

Mycroft smiled smugly. "We'll find her, Sherlock"

John came back up the stairs. "Sherlock look what I found" he said.

He handed the cloth to Sherlock. Lestrade came over to have a look.

"Careful" said John. "If it is what I think it is, it's dangerous"

Sherlock put his to his nose and mouth and, and breathed in, deeply.

He suddenly felt really faint and swayed.

Lestrade and Mycroft gripped his shoulders and pushed him down into the armchair.

"I told you to be careful" said John, handing him a glass of water.

"What... what was that?" asked Sherlock.

"It's an extremely dangerous sedative" said John. "You had it to your nose for a couple of seconds and you almost fainted"

"What are you saying?" asked Lestrade.

"If a thirteen year old has inhaled a lot... well if anyone has to much-

"Spit it out!" said Lestrade.

"If they give Clara to much, she could become ill or...or even die


	13. Chapter Twelve

. She felt worse. The room was spinning violently and it wouldn't stop. She clutched her pounding head, and tried to figure out what was happening and where the hell she was. But it was dark once again and she couldn't think. Suddenly there was a harsh ringing in her ears and a thump in her head.

"AH!" she gasped. She lay on the floor, eyes closed, hoping the pain would go away.

She heard someone unlocking a door. She tried to move but the pain and grogginess was to much.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

_TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP... TAP. _

Her eyes flew open as she realised a pair of feet were inches away from her face. Her eyes travelled up to a man in a navy suit.

"Hello Clara" said Jim Moriarty.

"The car hasn't been reported" said Lestrade.

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Now what?" asked John.

Sherlock sighed. "We wait"

"What" exclaimed John.

"We can't just wait!" exclaimed Lestrade.

"You don't understand" replied Mycroft.

"This is a game" explained Sherlock. "The whole thing. The graffiti, the messages, kidnapping Clara, it's a game to destroy me. To burn the heart out of me. Moriarty is going to make the next move"

Clara first instinct was to attack. But she couldn't. Her second escape from the mad Irishmen but she couldn't. Her third instinct was to run. But she was trap. She stood slowly, staggered a few steps. She had pick one of them.

"Your strong considering your only thirteen" said Moriarty. "Oh well, you not what they say, like father like daughter"

Clara didn't say anything. She lunge at him but tripped over her feet and went crashing to the ground with a groan.

Moriarty sighed.

"Clara, Clara, Clara" he said. "You should know that the sedative has left you weak as a kitten, oh dear"

He lifted her up. Clara tried to push him away but the sedative made her mind all disorientated, and looked more like a fish trying to get back into water.

Moriarty pushed her onto some sort of platform.

"Gosh" he said. "Someone needs to calm down a bit" ."Piss off" said Clara.

Moriarty sighed again. "Such a teenager"

He looked around.

"Right I'd best be off" he said. "Better get cracking and start the game with your father"

He walked to the door.

"What happens to me?" asked Clara.

"I think it's time you met a friend of mine" he said.

"Sine when do you have friends" said Clara.

"He's like my John" said Moriarty.

"Who is he?" asked Clara, as Moriarty got to the door.

"Sebastian Moran"

**Hope you enjoy, please leave comments and reviews. If you don't know who Sebastian Moran is, I suggest looking him up before reading any further. **


	14. Chapter Thirteen

It was getting late and Lestrade and Mycroft had left John and Sherlock. They both knew that Sherlock was capable of finding Clara all by himself but they told him anyway, to call if he needed help.

Sherlock paced up and down the living room, every now and then he glanced at his phone. John watched him carefully.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, quietly.

"A phone call" replied Sherlock.

Sherlock paced for another ten minutes, before his phone rang. He put it on speaker so John could hear.

"Hello?" he said.

"I must ay, Sherlock, your daughter is far more like you than I thought she was" said Moriarty. "I'd thought she'd be broken by now, you trained her well"

"I thought you knew that since the last time you attempted to kidnap her and 'burn me' failed" said Sherlock.

Moriarty laughed. "You thought I was trying to burn you, Sherlock, I was just igniting the fire" he said. "I take you want the girl back"

"Obviously" said Sherlock.

"I thought so, I thought so" murmured Moriarty. "The problem is, next time you see her, she'll probably be injured or dead"

"Don't you lay a finger on her" snarled Sherlock.

"Hit a nerve have I?" teased Moriarty. "Or have I found a pressure point?"

"Don't worry" said Moriarty. "I told you, remember, I don't like to get my hands dirty, I'll leave her to my colleague, Moran"

"Who?" asked Sherlock.

"Never mind about him" said Moriarty. "Shall we start the game?, I will send you a clue to Clara's where-abouts, if you get the answer correct, I will give you another clue, if you don't, well... you won't find her will you?"

"What's the clue?" asked Sherlock.

"If the Assassins done what they were told to do, the clue should be there" said Moriarty. "Goodbye Sherlock, speak to you soon"

He hung up.

"Is that it?" asked John.

"The clue's here but what?" said Sherlock.

John looked around his gaze fixed on the cloth with the drug.

"Sherlock" he said, pointing at it.

Sherlock jumped from his seat.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "This is the clue"

Clara lay on the mysterious platform. She had been roughly lying down for forty-five minutes. She didn't care. She just wanted to go home. Where she could lie on the sofa as John gave her medical care and Sherlock could play his violin until she fell asleep. She wanted to cry. But not in front of these psychos, who kidnapped her.

She heard the door open.

Clara closed her eyes as she realised she was frightened.

She slowly sat up and looked at the man with a black suit on.

He smiled. "Clara" he said. "I believe we haven't met"

Clara glared at him. "Sebastian Moran, I presume"

He chuckled softly. "Pleased to meet you Miss Holmes"

"Now, my colleague doesn't like getting his hands dirty, I, on the other hand, don't mind doing the dirty work"

Clara stood up. "Your telling me because?"

"In a couple of hours, Jim's going to need your hep" said Moran. "If you don't cooperate there will be consequences"

"Your not getting anything from me" said Clara.

"Oh but we will Clara" said Moran.

He walked over to her and waited until there nose to nose before saying- "You don't want to get hurt do you?"

Clara spat in his face.

He looked horrified and disgusted. He wiped the spit of his face, furiously.

He then slapped her hard, across the face.

The force of it was so fierce, that Clara fell to the floor.

Moran kicked her. "Beg"

Clara groaned in pain. "No"

Moran punched her in the ribcage.

"No" rasped Clara.

Moran pulled her up.

"BEG" he yelled in her face.

"No" said Clara.

Moran punched her in the face.

Clara whimpered as she fell to the ground.

"Very stubborn, just like your father" said Moran, out of breath. "I'll speak to Jim see if he has other ideas"

He kicked Clara again, for good measure, straightened his tie, before leaving, locking the door behind him.

Clara lay on the platform, semi-conscious.

As blood trickled from her nose, tears trickled down her face.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

"How is the cloth a clue?" asked John.

Sherlock thought about this for a few moments.

"No it can't be" he said.

"But you said it was" John replied.

"No it can't be, it's to simple" said Sherlock.

"I suppose I was just feeling..." Sherlock trailed off.

John looked at him in concern. Sherlock never_ ever_ talked about feelings or emotions.

"Nothing" said Sherlock, jumping up and going to his room.

Clara couldn't move. At least three of her ribs were broken, along with a bleeding nose and quite a lot of bruising.

She hoped that Moran wouldn't come back.

She breathed small, shallow breaths, looking at the tiny window. Wondering where the hell she was.

She heard the door unlock, she didn't want to know who it was.

She wasn't going to show any fear or emotion. Like Sherlock taught her.

The man crouched next to her, to her relief it wasn't Sebastian Moran, but James Moriarty.

Moriarty pulled his phone out.

"What are you doing?" Clara whispered, weakly.

"Igniting the fire" replied Moriarty, taking a picture of Clara.

He then sent it to Sherlock with the words -_Call me_

Within seconds Moriarty's phone rang.

Moriarty answered it with a grin of glee on his face.

"Hello" he said, innocently.

"You haven't given me anything to solve" said Sherlock, through his gritted teeth.

"No, no I suppose I haven't" said Moriarty, with a sarcastic sigh. "I take it you thought at first it was the cloth?".

There was a silence from Sherlock, as if he was annoyingly embarrassed. "Yes, I did" he replied curtly.

Moriarty smiled smugly. "Good"

"I suppose I've been caught cheating" he said. "I'll tell you what I'll give you instructions"

"I want you to try and find one of the assassins who kidnapped Clara" said Moriarty. "Find Seth Marling, if you do I'll give you a clue"

"What's the clue?" asked Sherlock.

"I think I'll let Clara tell you" said Moriarty.

Another silence from Sherlock, but this one tense.

Moriarty handed her a piece of paper.

Clara just glared at him.

"Come one Clara" he said, sweetly. "Read it"

"Clara, do as he says" she heard Sherlock say.

Moriarty pressed the phone to her ear.

"The sound of heel on cobbled stone" Clara rasped, weekly. She felt her ribs became more sore and it was painful to breathe, but she had to carry on. "That stalked the streets of yesteryear. As sewage flowed with soiled dreams. The man would walk bereft of fear. His mind was caged and wrought with grief..." Clara had to stop to take a few breaths. "As pain destroyed his inner eye and cancers crept and clawed his soul...a lovers voice that hushed goodbye"

Moriarty put the phone back to his ear. "Remind you of anybody at all, Sherlock?"

"No" said Sherlock, uncertainly.

"Not even a couple of those sentences?" said Moriarty. "Oh well..."

"Better get cracking Sherlock" he said. "You only have ten hours" .

Moriarty put his phone in his pocket as he stood.

He looked down at Clara, who was giving him a glare of hatred.

Moriarty chuckled to himself. He thought it amusing, how Clara was completely unaware of her fate.

**Thanks you so much for your patience! Just to let you know the poem is from a book, I didn't make it up, I can't tell you what book it because it would spoil the story! **


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Sherlock was in the Living Room, telling John everything about the phone call and showed him the picture Moriarty sent.

John swore.

"We should phone Lestrade and Mycroft" he said.

"No" said Sherlock, sitting at his desk. He took out some paper and a pen, and started writing the clue Clara rasped down the phone.

"We have to figure it out first before we get them involved" he said, finishing with a flourish.

John read it. "So it's a verse from some sort of... poem?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Victorian" said Sherlock. "Judging by some of the lines and words used such as, 'yesteryear', 'bereft' , 'as sewage flowed' and 'heel on cobbled stone'"

John hummed in agreement.

"Seems quite grim, mentions poverty a lot"

"It'll be somewhere in London where there was huge poverty in the 1800's" said Sherlock.

"It's practically everywhere" said John.

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair.

"All we need to do is narrow the field down" he said. "Should be easy enough"

Clara wheezed as she stood up. She felt sick as she looked at her broken bruised ribs.

She slowly over to the door and peeped through the peep hole, but all she could see was a long dark corridor and a dozen doors on each side.

She tried the door, but it was obviously locked.

She looked around to see the small window.

She went over to it, trying to see by standing on her tip toes but it was no use.

She clung to the window sill, but the effort pained her and she struggled to breathe.

"Ok, Clara" she said to herself. "You can do this"

She pulled herself up trying not to make any noise that Moriarty would hear.

She sat on the window the window sill, taking deep, pained breaths, feeling exhausted but also pleased with herself.

The window was locked but she knew it would be so Clara concentrated on trying figure out where she was.

She was definitely in some sort Financial District in the City of London area, there was a lot of modern offices and city lights. But something was missing. Something was wrong.

Suddenly she heard someone coming.

Despite her pain she jumped down and ran to her original position, but it was to much and she crashed onto the platform, she blacked out.

"How do we narrow the field down? Shouldn't we be looking for Seth Marling?" asked John.

"I've got Vince looking for him but there's not a lot I can do without figuring out the clue" said Sherlock.

"Vince?"

"One of my top operatives of the Homeless Network" said Sherlock. "Anyway, the poem's obviously about an insane man from the 1800's"

"Sure it'd not just talking about you?" joked John.

Sherlock glared at him.

"But that stuff about Cancers crept his inner eye?" asked John.

"Oh, that's just random poetry nonsense that doesn't make any sense and is stupid"

"Er...ok" said John.

Sherlock growled in frustration. "It's obvious but I can't seem to get it."

John sighed. He knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, Sherlock pointed at him in an accusing fashion and said- "Get out I need to go to my Mind Palace"

Clara woke up feeling horrible. She was now starting to feel hungry, she had inherited a lot from Sherlock's habits, but eating was usually not one of them (she did prefer to only have two meals a day rather than three though). Although she did forget to drink sometimes. John constantly asks if she's drank any water if she had a headache. Then she would point out that she's migraineur and always gets headaches.

Not also did Clara feel hungry but she felt faint and tired, probably because she had to be careful about how she breathed.

Suddenly, the door unlocked.

She painfully sat up as Sebastian Moran came strolling in.

Clara glared at him and Moran smiled at her.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Come to tell you that Sherlock only has a couple of hours left and Jim would like you to call him"

Clara glared at him. Again.

He sighed. "You wouldn't want to get hurt again would you?"

Clara thought about this. Sherlock told her to do exactly what Moriarty wanted them to do.

Clara sighed and shook her head.

"Good" said Moran. "Come on"

Moran pulled her up and she yelped in pain as her ribs protested.

"Stop moaning" said Moran.

"You've broken my ribs and has kidnapped me why wouldn't I moan?" said Clara.

Moran ignored her and started to tied her hands behind her with a rope.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

Moran nodded.

"Dull" she muttered.

Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, in his ''Mind Palace'' . John managed to creep in, without Sherlock realising, so he could make himself some tea.

"I HAVE IT" Sherlock suddenly yelled, leaping out of his chair.

"Jesus" exclaimed John. "Don't do that"

Sherlock ignored him. "It's Whitechapel"

Sherlock showed John his laptop.

"I knew I heard the poem from somewhere, I read it in a poem about Jack the Ripper as part of research for my theory of what happened to him" said Sherlock. "Jack the Ripper usually killed his victims in Whitechapel"

"Brilliant" said John.

Sherlock smiled briefly. "Time to call Moriarty"

Moran shoved Clara to her knees.

"Careful" said Moriarty, as he heard Clara yelp. "We want her alive"

Moran slowly backed away and stood at the door.

Suddenly, Staying Alive played from inside of Moriarty's phone.

"Oh shit it's him!" exclaimed Moriarty.

Clara raised his eyebrows at him as he answered his phone.

"Hello Sherlock" said Moriarty. He laughed. "I must say Sherlock I am impressed Whitechapel is correct".

He suddenly he pulled out a gun,

Clara crouched and screamed in alarm.

"Call you back" he said.

Back at Baker Street the same thought was running through John and Sherlock's brains, was she dead?

**Hey Guys! Sorry this took so long I was on holiday, the poem in which the clue if from is from a book called The Darkened Tales Series by Pete Marshall. Chapter Sixteen coming up very soon, please review and comment and vote and read! **

**Till next chapter, **

**EICochrane xxx**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Clara slowly turned her head and saw the bullet hole in the wall. It narrowly missed her.

She turned face to Moriarty who was smiling. "I will burn him" he said. "Even if it means killing you"

John woke up. He didn't know how the hell he managed to get some sleep. He sat up and looked up at his phone. It read 1:37.

He frowned.

He got up and padded downstairs to make himself a cup of tea, when he noticed the dim light from the living room lamp.

He frowned again and went through to the Living room, where Sherlock was sitting in his armchair. His face held no emotion. But in his eyes were a glimpse of stress and exhaustion, his fingers were drumming impatiently on the arm of the chair, his eyes concentrated on his phone.

John sat in his armchair. "Nothing yet?"

"No" snapped Sherlock. "She isn't dead though, obviously"

John decided he wouldn't ask how he deduced that.

"Sherlock you haven't slept for a day, you must be exhausted, go to bed"

Sherlock shook his head. "He'll call soon... Clara"

His hands were trembling and his breath was shaky.

John hadn't seen him like this since Dartmoor.

"Sherlock we can't do anything for the moment"

Sherlock ignored him.

"Sherlock go to bed"

"I don't..."

"Sherlock?"

Nothing.

"Sherlock?"

"I AM NOT WAITING FOR MY DAUGHTER TO DIE, JOHN" Sherlock yelled. "OH, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING, OH MY GOD THE MAN ACTUALLY HAS FEELINGS! THE MAN ACTUALLY CARES! WELL YES JOHN, I DO, CAUSE SHE'S THE ONLY ONE I HAVE, AND MORIARTY WILL NOT WIN!"

John didn't say anything.

Sherlock couldn't believe what he just said and who he yelled at.

"John I..."

Sherlock's phone rang.

Sherlock snatched it up.

"Hello?" he said. "Lestrade,.. Excellent... will be there in half an hour"

"What is it?" asked John.

"Thanks to our instructions, Lestrade has managed to find Seth Marling"

Sherlock and John followed Lestrade through the corridors of Scotland Yard. They turned left and to Sherlock's annoyance, Sally Donnavon was waiting for them.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry about Clara" she said.

Sherlock ignored her sympathy.

"Is he ready for questioning?" asked Sherlock.

Lestrade nodded.

They all went through were Seth Marling was sitting, hands cuffed, sitting in front of a huge desk.

They all took there seats.

"Seth Marling you've been arrested and charged with abduction and assault, do you deny?" asked Lestrade.

"...No" said Seth.

"Mr. Holmes will now take over"

Seth smiled in a sarcastic, dull fashion.

"Where's Jonah Bec?" asked Sherlock.

"I don't know" replied Seth, calmly.

"Is that a lie?" asked Donnavon.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed at her stupidity.

"If it was I wouldn't admit to abducting would I?" Seth replied.

"How old are you?" asked Sherlock.

"Twenty-two" said Seth, with a frown.

"Very young for an assassin"

Seth looked at his knees.

"You were quite easy to catch to" continued Sherlock.

Seth looked at him in the eye.

"Are you wanting praise Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, I want you to tell me, where Moriarty is with my daughter?"

A small smile tugged on Seth's mouth.

"But surely you know I'm not going to tell you"

"Oh no, you will tell me" said Sherlock.

"Says who?"

"Says me" said Sherlock. "You first killed, a nine year old girl two years ago, you then went on to work for master criminals including helping Jim Moriarty kidnap a thirteen year old"

Seth sighed.

"And yet you made yourself easy to find, why?" Sherlock continued. "Because of what happened to Zoe"

Seth looked mildly hurt.

"I don't understand" whispered Sally.

"Of course you don't" snapped Sherlock.

"Zoe Marling. Nine year old. Drowned by madmen, Colin McCarty" said Sherlock. "Zoe's older brother, Seth, murdered Colin's daughter as revenge but Colin got the blame as he already murdered a girl. Seth was driven to revenge and revenge led to Crime. But you regret don't you?"

Seth didn't say anything.

"You didn't really want to kidnap Clara because it reminded you of Zoe. And the girl you killed. The guilt"

Seth looked angry as tears sprung to his eyes.

"Are you expecting me to beg?" he said, though his gritted teeth. " Or to grieve over my sister?! How did you know?"

"Because you made yourself easy to find" said Sherlock. "Someone who is able to work for Moriarty us able to make himself disappear, then I just went through your records"

Seth sighed.

"So I ask again" said Sherlock. "Where. Is. My. Daughter!?"

Seth looked scared and worried.

"Mr Holmes, you know I can't tell you" he whispered.

Sherlock glared at Seth's drumming fingers before looking back at him.

"Clara" he whispered. "She will die and I am sorr-"

BANG.

Suddenly there was a shot and Seth slumped onto the table, blood pouring from his head.

**I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I have had such a busy holiday! What do you think? Comments and Votes are appreciated! **

**Ex**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Clara (once again) woke up in the dark room. She was slightly relieved to find an apple and a plastic cup of water. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

She munched the apple, hungrily and drank the water within seven minutes. She then lifted her jumper up to have a look at her broken ribs. There was no improvements what so ever. There were dark black and blue bruises and a few bones were sticking out oddly.

She almost cried out. She had to get out.

She cautiously stood up and went to the door, and looked through the keyhole. She noticed at the far end of the corridor, there flights if descending stairs. Clara rummaged through her pocket and found a curby grip. She smiled at technique she was about to use, it was over used in movies but Clara did actually know how to do it.

Clara put her finger between the slides and started to pick at the lock and within two minutes the door quietly swung open. She looked around and cautiously walked along the corridor and reached the stairs. She briefly wandered where the hell are there stairs and where the hell do the lead to, when suddenly she heard Moran yell - " SHE'S GONE" .

Clara quickly started for the stairs, she heard footsteps run after her. She clutched her ribcage with one hand, her other hand went gripped the bannister as she sped down the stairs. Someone started firing at her, she backed against the wall.

"NO, I WANT HER ALIVE!" screeched Moriarty.

She looked back to find that they were catching up with her.

She ran.

Her ribs were agonizingly painful but she carried on running.

"Just keep going and don't look back" she thought to herself.

She saw a door a few metres away, a woman with a suit on and folder in her hand, on the other side of the door walked by.

"Yes! Help!" Clara thought to herself.

She was so close but someone grabbed and twisted her ankle, hard, causing her leg to make a tremendous crack. She screamed in agony, and as she feel, she whacked her head off the stair and blacked out.

**Hello Everyone! **

**I know this is a short chapter but I've just started back at school and have been very busy. I'm trying to finish this story as soon as possible, because I would like to start on new story ideas! Clara will return in a series of one-shots. There will be more Fanfiction stories and especially Sherlock ones! Very excited for Series 3! Please vote and comment, ect, ect. I love them! Thanks! Eilidh **


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Sherlock sat in the Detective Inspector's chair, his hands in a prayer position.

John was looking out the window.

They both stood (and stood) in silence.

They'd been banished from the room where they were questioning Seth Marling before he was mysteriously shot. They all knew it was someone working or possibly the man himself, Moriarty's doing, so Lestrade had pulled out Sherlock and John out for his own safety.

Sherlock sat up and took a notebook out of his pocket and wrote: T_E _H_R_

"Do you think it was Moriarty?" John suddenly asked.

Sherlock looked up. "What?"

"The shot. Do you think it was Moriarty?"

"Oh that? Yes, obviously" said Sherlock.

Lestrade came in with (to Sherlock's delight) Donovan.

"Shot was from an open window from behind" said Lestrade. "The trail's gone cold."

"No" said Sherlock.

"No what?" asked Lestrade.

"The trail hasn't one cold, in fact the complete opposite"

"How?" asked Donovan.

"Before Seth was shot, he was talking about Clara, yes?"

"Yes" said John.

"Well that's not why he was shot because he said she wouldn't make it. He was promoting Moriarty's power by saying that, so that wasn't why he was shot"

"I still don't get it" said Lestrade.

"Oh for God's Sakes" Sherlock sighed, exasperated and irritated by there stupidity. "He wasn't shot for his words he was shot by his actions"

"Which were...?" asked Donovan.

"Do you observe anything?" muttered Sherlock. "John, do you know?"

"Er... He was tapping his fingers?" said John.

"Excellent" exclaimed Sherlock. "He was tapping his fingers in morse code! He said we wouldn't make it when actually we could!"

"What did he say though?" asked Lestrade.

"A R D" said Sherlock. "He wasn't very good at morse code, and then he got shot, but I can figure it out and I will"

Clara woke up severely concussed, the pain from her leg was unbearable, as the pain from her head.

She gingerly felt the her hot, sticky head wound, just above her temple. She slowly sat up but her leg was agonizingly painful.

She had to examine it. She felt a bone stick out weirdly. She knew it was broken.

Suddenly, Moriarty came into view.

"Oh, Clara" he said, sadly. "Oh Clara, Clara, Clara. I thought you were intelligent. I thought you knew not to try and escape and now your leg is broken". He shoke his head sadly and pouted.

Clara just sat there trying not to vomit.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be punished" sighed Moriarty.

"But" he continued. "If you apologized. You'll be rewarded"

"I. Will. Never. Apologize" Clara spat. "You'll have to kill me"

Moriarty sighed. "Your choice"

He walked away and behind him, was Moran with a sharp knife. He smiled as he walked towards Clara.

**Sorry I took so long. I'll try to update more often. Sorry if there is any spelling mistakes the spelling correction thingy isn't very good. **

**Please review and comment and vote, ect. **

**LOTS OF LOVE! **

**Eilidh**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Sherlock and John were now back at the flat. John sat down in his armchair, as did Sherlock.

There was an awkward silence.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"John" he said. "I'm er... sorry for shouting, I didn't... didn't meant it"

John was a bit surprised that Sherlock apologized.

"No-no-no not at all... it's fine" said John.

Sherlock smiled briefly, when suddenly his phone went off.

"Hello?" he said, cautiously.

"Hello again, Sherlock" said Moriarty.

"Hello" replied Sherlock.

Suddenly, through the phone, Sherlock heard a piercing scream.

"What was that?" asked John.

"What are you doing?" asked Sherlock.

"She wouldn't do as she was told" said Moriarty. "She tried to escape and now she's being punished

Another scream.

"Stop it" said Sherlock.

Another scream.

"Not till she apologizes"

John felt sick.

There was another scream from Clara, but this time it also sounded like she was sobbing. One thing that John knew about Clara, that she was like Sherlock. She's strong and sometimes... well cold. She would hide her emotions. So when he heard her sob/scream, he knew Moriarty was breaking her.

"I'm sorry" she sobbed, desperately. "I'm sorry"

Sherlock held his breath as there was silence.

"OK, Seb" said Moriarty. "You can stop"

Moriarty walked over to Clara and held the phone to her.

"Your reward" he said, with a manic grin.

Clara slowly took the phone.

"Will you give me some privacy?" asked Clara. "Please"

Moriarty sighed. He knew that she didn't know where she was. He'd caught her in time. Also get her and Sherlock's hopes up then they burn more dramatically. Moriarty nodded and he and Moran walked out the room.

The moment that Clara saw the Napoleon of Crime and The Second Most Dangerous Man were gone, she put the phone to her ear.

"Sherlock" she whispered desperately, crying.

"Clara are you alright?" asked Sherlock, sounding relieved to hear his daughter's voice.

"No" she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I thought I was stronger, I thought I was more like you, I thought I could be more like you, but I'm not... I'm not... I'm not ok"

"What's he done?" asked John.

Clara told them everything, from her broken ribs to her broken legs, being drugged to head wound, concussion to getting her arm twisted.

"Why were you screaming?" asked Sherlock.

"The man... Sebastian Moran... he had a knife and he was cutting my arms" said Clara.

Sherlock listened to her sobs, opened mouthed shock.

"But there not deep" said Clara. "The cuts are bleeding but there not bad"

"Sherlock please, you got to get me out of here" she whispered.

"Clara, I promise we're going to get you out alright?" asked Sherlock. "Do you know anything?"

"I only know that I'm in the financial district and when I tried to escape I saw a woman in a suit but she didn't see me, there was a lot of stairs" she whispered.

Sherlock nodded. "We're going to get you out I promise, Seth Marling he told us a clue in morse code"

"Moriarty's coming" said Clara.

"Ok, Clara, you've got to do as your told, ok? Don't try to escape" said Sherlock.

"I love you" said Clara.

"I love you to" said Sherlock, using her old nickname he used for her when she was a baby:- "Little lady"

Clara gave a small laugh. "I'm still smarter than you"

"Alright, alright" said Moriarty, now on the phone. "Now, Sherlock, shall we paly the game?"

"Lets" said Sherlock, sarcastically.

"I'll give you a clue" he said. "Moran bring me the girl!"

Sherlock heard Clara whimper in pain as Moran shoved her forward.

"Gently, Seb, gently" teased Moriarty. "She's broken"

"Right" said Moriarty. "Clara read this"

"Once you find the object you seek go and wait by it at noon" said Clara. "So long as the Stone of Brutus is safe, so shall London flourish. You have till noon otherwise... "

"Go on" said Moriarty, in the background.

"Otherwise it shall be to late"

"Well" said Moriarty. "You heard what she said, CHOP CHOP"

SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I WAS ON HOLIDAY! UPDATE SOONER. PLEASE REVIEW AND COMMENT IT MEANS A LOT. xxx


	21. Chapter Twenty

"Stone of Brutus?" asked Sherlock. "Ever heard of it?"

"No" replied John. "I take it, it's roman, judging by the name, Brutus."

"London was sort of... started by Romans was it not?" asked Sherlock.

"Think so" replied John.

"Hmm..." said Sherlock, thoughtfully.

Clara, Sebastian and Moriarty were in some sort of old office. Clara was forced to lie on the table, whilst Seb stood behind Moriarty, who sat in the big leather armchair.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in" said Moriarty.

A man in a suit came in and Clara recognized him immediately. Jonah Bec.

"You wanted me, Jim" he said.

"Yes" said Moriarty. "I have a job for you. Follow Sherlock. Make sure he isn't anywhere near where we are"

"Your cheating" exclaimed Clara.

"Quiet" barked Moran.

Moriarty laughed. "You honestly thought I'd wait for him, so the playing field was fair? You seriously thought I'd give him a chance? You're gonna die Clara. I only invented the game, to get his hopes up and then watch him burn, as he realises that you, the only thing in the world that he cares about, is gone"

Clara stared at him to shocked to speak. She was going to die. Sherlock wouldn't save her in time and she was never going to see him again.

"I think we should just kill him" said Seb.

"No that's to obvious" replied Moriarty.

"He could still catch you out" argued Seb.

"He has a point" said Clara, with a smirk.

"I could just shoot him" snarled Jonah. "There would be a lot of satisfaction"

"No" said Moriarty.

"We need to finish him off" said Seb.

"No" said Moriarty.

"Tough, I'm shooting him, it is easier" said Jonah.

"I SAID NO" screamed Moriarty.

Everyone went silent.

"WE CAN'T KILL HIM. WE KILL THE GIRL, LEAVE HIM WEAK AND VUNERABLE AND THEN I'LL BE THE ONE TO FINISH HIM OFF" he screamed. "IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

Jonah sighed and nodded .

Seb nodded.

"Good!"

"Now" said Moriarty, calmly, as if nothing ever happened. "Jonah go and follow Sherlock, Seb, the chloroform"

"What, why?" exclaimed Clara.

She knew if she had anymore it could be life threatening . It would cause headaches, nausea, possible vomiting, dizziness, confusion, ringing in the ears, sluggishness and hallucinations .

"Get away from me" said Clara, sternly, as Moran came closer with the cloth.

Clara tried to move out the way as he came closer and closer.

"No, please, no" she begged. "NOOO"

She tried to move away but it was no use and soon she felt herself slip into unconsciousness and there was nothing she could do.

**Hello, **

**This chapter is pretty short, I'm sorry! Updates will hopefully be longer and faster! **

**I just want to say Thank You to all the reviewers. Especially, **

**Winnepeng, Brijasmine, RainboWalker, hisfinalproblem, Douglas Fiennes, miss_saxobeat, helenamiami and Lily Astrania **

** And huge HUGE thank you to ilovepinecone who has commented on most chapters. **

**Next chapter soon. **

**Please keep commenting and reviewing it is really appreciated! **

**Thanks,**

**E**


	22. Chapter Twenty- One

"John wake up!" someone said, shaking his shoulder.

John groaned, wanting to go back to sleep.

"Go away, Sherlock"

"Come, _on_, John" he whined.

Sherlock straightened up and tried another tactic.

"UP SOILDIER, NOW!" he barked.

"'S not gonna work" slurred John.

Sherlock sighed and tried _another_ tactic.

"John" he whispered. "John, Clara's... Clara's dead"

John was so quick to roll and face Sherlock, that he feel of the bed.

"WHAT" he gasped. "Sher... Sherlock, how can... how can you be sure?"

"John, I know my daughter is alive, otherwise Moriarty would of said something, honestly" replied Sherlock, dropping the act completely.

"She's... she's not dead?"

"Of course she isn't!" exclaimed Sherlock. "I just said that to get you out of bed of course!"

John just looked at him. Anger, Bewilderment and complete shock were all emotions he was feeling.

Sherlock must've noticed.

"Ok, maybe that was a bit not good" he said quickly. "I woke you up because of a case, a case that might lead us to Clara"

"How so?" asked John.

"Because the murder victim was possibly killed by Jonah Bec"

_"Clara" whispered Sherlock. "Clara"_

Clara groggily opened her eyes and gasped. Her head was swimming, every part of her was sluggish, everything was slow, unfocused, it made her confused and dizzy and... disorientated.

_"Clara" whispered Sherlock again._

Clara tried to focus on (the hallucinations, not that she knew that that was what they were) on the voice.

_Sherlock came into view and laughed in relief. _

_"Clara" he repeated. _

_It was like an echo. A whispering echo. Over and over. _

_She smiled and stumbled forward but Sherlock shook his head, teasingly and turned around, coat flying and stepped to the side. Revealing a jazz band, playing a slow blues tune. A woman in a long, glittering red dress was swinging her arms, in tune to the melody, humming into the old-fashioned microphone. _

_Clara stared at the band, transfixed. _

_"Who are you?" she whispered. _

_"We are you" replied a child's voice. _

_Clara blinked. _

_Suddenly a small child in white tutu and white ballet shoes stood, in a spotlight, in the centre of the room. It was a younger version of Clara, when she was about six or seven. Small with long ginger hair. _

_Suddenly, the girl pirouetted, but it was in slow motion, Clara could even hear her hair swaying every time the girl spun._

_"May I have this dance, Miss Grey?" _

_Clara gasped in fright and spun round. _

_It was Sherlock (minus coat and scarf) bowed slightly, offering a hand to a small, slender woman, in a V-neck, elegant sparkling turquoise evening dress. She wore red lipstick, and had long ginger hair in a fishtail plait. _

_Grey... that was... Madeline Grey... oh yes, Irene Adler's real name. _

_"You may, Mr Holmes, " said Miss Grey, flirtingly. _

_That voice. Clara knew that voice. _

_"Mum" she whispered. _

_The two of them slowly danced, around the young Clara and in front of the band, laughing and smiling. _

Suddenly, Clara felt sick, her head was thumping and her ears were ringing.

Clara's knees buckled, as she felt extremely close to fainting and she fell to the ground.

"Mum" she called.

But the hallucinations became smaller and smaller and more distant.

But before it disappeared , Sherlock's eyes locked onto Clara's. His eyes were full of worry and hurt.

"But how?" thought the disorientated Clara. "He's not... he can't"

Darkness was taking over.

"Dad" she called, desperately.

As the figures disappeared and as Clara fell into unconsciousness she didn't realize she called Sherlock, Dad.

**NB- **

**Hello Everyone! **

**First of all, Clara's hallucinations from the drug was inspired from Amy Pond's one in the Doctor Who episode Asylum of the Daleks. **

**Second of all, this story is set after The Great Game but before The Scandal of Belgravia. **

**Third of all, I'm planning on doing more Clara stories. In form of the episodes from Series 1-2 and also a series of one-shots, chapter titles as her age. **

**In the one-shots, when Clara is young Sherlock will be called Dad or Daddy after this story I think she'll feel more close to Sherlock and call him Dad and seeing as Sherlock will of got a huge fright, he'll let her. Therefore he'll be Dad in Series 2. **

**Well done if you're following this! Sorry for babbling almost finished! **

**As usual comments are appreciated. **

**If you have any ideas or suggestions for my Clara one-shots story please get in touch. **

**Thanks and Enjoy! **

**E xx **


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